The Color of Lilacs
by randomwriting
Summary: The color of lilacs is all it takes to crumble steel. SC


The Color of Lilacs

Disclaimer: CBS, creators, producers, etc., own all recognizable characters, not me; I'm just borrowing them. 

The Color of Lilacs

Exhaustion clawed at the back of her eyes and hung on her limbs like weighted bags of sand, but sleep would not have the same success claiming Calleigh as it had with her slumbering husband. Although, judging from the constant twitching and rough, ragged breathing coming from the restless body entwined with hers, Tim hadn't gone down without a hell of a fight.

Gently she laid her palm atop his cheek, lightly caressing the bristled skin beneath her fingertips in a vain attempt to settle him. His response was to mumble incoherently and tighten the vice grip he'd had on her all evening. Even in sleep, he was trying to keep her close, likely in an effort to save her from herself, although she suspected he needed saving just as badly. Resting her head atop his chest, she listened for his heartbeat, hoping if she concentrated solely on the soothing, continuous rhythm, it would be enough to still the voices in her head, the ones that kept reminding there was one more detail left to attend.

One more detail, one more decision, one more choice, but unlike the multitude of decisions and choices they'd made in the last seventy-two hours, this final choice would be hers alone. And, despite the plaintive pleas of all who loved her telling her otherwise, this last task couldn't wait until morning.

None of them, not a one of the concerned friends and family members who'd gathered to offer well intended, but empty reassurances, could begin to comprehend the significance of this final act. Not even Tim, who loved her with a completeness she'd never before known and who would selflessly carry her lifetime's worth of anguish on top of his own, if only he could, truly grasped her overwhelming need, although God love him, he'd tried. _Together, Calleigh, we'll do it together in the morning_, he'd pleaded in a voice so heartbreakingly gentle, its effect on her was akin to being wrapped in a thick, flannel blanket.

In the end, she'd heeded his plea, albeit temporarily, and followed him to the sanctuary of their bed because in truth, unable to bear another infliction of pain, it was what he needed more than anything. Tenderly she traced the lines in his face. These ravages of grief were etched so deeply that neither time, nor love, and certainly not the delicate touch of the woman who shared his anguish, would ever be able to smooth them out completely. Knowing she could never assuage his suffering, she could at least shield him from this one last assault, even if, in all honesty, her motives for doing so were completely selfish.

With a deep shuddering breath, his body jerked violently and he briefly relinquished his tight hold, allowing her to carefully slip from his arms. Quietly she slid from the bed and padded into the darkness, feeling her chest tighten with every step. Propelled by the steely strength and resolute single-mindedness that had carried her thus far, she was at the closed door to the room next to theirs in mere moments.

She entered the room slowly, as if guided by a force outside of herself. Bathed in the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the open curtains, a feeling of otherworldly tranquility permeated the air, but the placid atmosphere did little to suppress the increasing tightness in her chest. Closing the door behind her, she kept her eyes focused straight ahead, not daring so much as a single flitting glance around the room she'd decorated so lovingly once upon a time. Tonight she was here for one reason only; she couldn't risk being sidetracked from the task at hand.

Fatigue and tears burned her eyes, but would not deter her as she stood in front of the neatly organized closet, the varied contents of which, thankfully, she could pinpoint with her eyes closed. Nimbly she reached inside, her fingers quickly lighting upon the garment she'd been seeking. There had never been any real question of which one of the cherished dresses would be selected, for although each of the beautiful garments evoked a treasure trove of memories, only one was the perfect choice.

This small frock, the color of lilacs, would grace her precious daughter once more. It had been hand-made with adoring affection by an ailing great-grandmother who hadn't lived long enough to see how beautifully the hue complemented the rosy cheeks, warm cocoa eyes, and soft caramel curls of her smiling great-granddaughter who wore it proudly on her third birthday, just one month earlier. Holding the crisp cotton fabric with the hand-stitched smocking against her cheek while hot tears streamed unabated, her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to breathe against the pain that threatened to burst through her chest.

One small dress, forever the color of lilacs and love and birthdays and smiles, was all it took to crumble the steely strength that had gotten Calleigh through every one of life's hardships. One small dress, the color of lilacs, worn by a little girl who would smile no more, was all it took to bring her to her knees as deep, heaving sobs racked her petite frame.

From out of nowhere, Tim's arms wrapped securely around her as he carefully lowered her shuddering body into his lap and rocked her gently while his own tears fell upon her golden tresses. She buried herself into his chest as wave after wave of unimagined pain washed over her.

A lifetime of choices had been reduced to one. Clutched tightly in her fist was the dress their cherished daughter would wear as she was laid to rest.

And her final act as a mother was now complete.

The end.


End file.
